Peter immediately knew something was off about you. Even without his Spidey-senses. It was more of his Boyfriend Senses™, really.
As much as you were fooling everyone else into thinking that you were fine, you can’t fool him. He had made you smile enough times to know when you were faking them. He had seen you sneak coffee into your water bottle more times than he could count. Date nights were often held in your room more often than not (though he wasn’t complaining). He’s also pretty sure you’ve spent more time with your laptop than you have with him in the past month.
Which is where he found you one Friday afternoon: in your dorm. With your laptop. Sitting on a throne of lecture notes and tissue. Holding back your tears. Your breathing is uneven. Your hair is a mess. Your eye bags have doubled in size. You’re shaking as you type into a 7-page Word doc.
He climbs in your window, Spidey suit and all.
You know those footsteps even in your sleep.
“Hey Peter”, you don’t even look up to greet him.
“Hi Dovie”
He sheds his suit while slowly making his way to you and starts massaging your shoulders. The tension eases out. You throw your head back and finally look up at him with shining eyes wet with secret tears.
“Not that I don’t appreciate this, but why?”
“You just seem”, he pauses to consider his word choice, ”…stressed.”
“Stressed is an understatement.”
“I know you’re stressed, you know you’re stressed, so why don’t you take a break? It’s a Friday. There’s a movie marathon not far from here. I could swing both of us over if you don’t feel like walking. I’ll even buy the popcorn.”
“God, Petey, you don’t know how much I want to but I, I, I can’t. I can’t. There’s just too much.”
He backtracks. “Maybe I can help you. What subjects do you still have assignments in?”
“All of them but I don’t need your help. I want to do this on my own.” You wave him off.
He starts pacing and picking up the discarded notebooks on the floor. “Well, what can I do? Is there anything else? Anything to make your workload lighter?”
“Pete, stop. It’s fine”
“No, it’s not fine, you’re taking on too much. I love your work ethic but everyone has limits. It’s my duty as your boyfriend to take care of you so excuse me because I can’t just stand here while you run yourself into the ground and-”
“Peter, please shut up.”
He stops and the notebooks plop onto your bed. Your words catch up to you as you realize what you said.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”, you say with a broken voice as the tears gush out of your eyes. You can’t even face him as you sob onto your crossed arms on the table.
He kneels in front of you and holds your face, wiping tears flowing from your eyes. “Oh no, baby, baby, it’s fine. Look at me, it’s okay. I get it.”
“No, YOU DON’T!” You stand up from the chair and start pacing. “You don’t get it, Peter. I was so fucking confident 2 weeks ago. I was ahead. I was ahead of everyone else. I was fucking game. Then, all those assignments fucking tripled in number. I can’t even learn properly. I can’t remember things. I’m too busy thinking and worrying. This isn’t the first time I’ve been overloaded but I make the same mistakes every time. I never learn and I never do anything right. Now I’ve fallen behind all my classmates and I ended up here. Falling apart like a fucking mess.”
“I’m just so fucking tired.” He wraps his arms around your back as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s leaning against the wall to support your weight.
“Don’t your professors know? Can’t you…talk to them?”
“My goddamn teachers don’t give a flying fuck about me, they don’t care that I have 30 other assignments due in the same week! They don’t fucking know how to fucking coordinate! Every time I submit a project, my workload doubles. I have 3 exams at the end of this month alone. I have 6 group projects and no one is talking to each other so I’m going to end up doing all the work. I have 2 seatworks to submit that I’m already days behind on. Half of my papers don’t even have fucking outlines yet. I’m running on caffeine. I barely eat. I barely sleep. Nothing matters. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. I’m never enough. And I can’t do anything about it.”
“You know what the worst part is?”
He shakes his head.
“The worst part is, I’m not angry. I don’t feel angry or sad or happy. I don’t feel anything. It’s, i-it’s drained so much of me that I just don’t have the energy to care anymore. Emotions are just fucking exhausting. Caring about anything is exhausting. I’m just losing myself.”
“Do you feel numb?”
“…I just feel broken.”
He holds you even closer as the two of you slide down the wall. Your arms and legs wrap around him like he’s your anchor pulling out of a storm. His hands draw hearts and stars on the small of your back as he kisses your hair and whispers i love you i love you i love you
You both lose track of how long you’ve been sitting there.
“Why?”
He stops to touch your forehead with his. “Why what?”, he asks, looking up at you.
“Why do you still love me?”
“Why the hell not? You’re brilliant, you have the biggest heart of gold I’ve ever known, you’re fucking amazing and that’s coming from Spiderman himse-”
“Look at me, Peter, I’m a mess.”
“But you’re the mess that I wanted.”
You pause and then giggle, mouthing what the fuck? He laughs with you, happy to make you smile.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N.”
“No, I mean it. I am sorry. You may be the only person who actually gets it. How do you keep your life, I mean lives, balanced?”
“It takes all of my energy. It’s exhausting. Sometimes…sometimes I feel pathetic”
“How? I mean it looks like second nature to you. Like some instinct.”
“I’ve never been a natural. All I do is try, try, try.”
You sigh. “But at least people appreciate you and say thanks every once in a while.”
“That doesn’t happen as often as you think.”
Your head shoots up. “No way.”
“It’s New York, baby. What’re you gonna do?”
“Come on, you’re fucking Spiderman!”
“No.”
You look at him in confusion. “Huh?”
“You’re fucking Spiderman, I’m Spider-fucking-Man.” You laugh, he joins you.
God, don’t you just wanna kiss the smug smile off his stupid face?
“How about you take a shower and maybe a 10-hour nap, then when you finish we watch something mindless and I’ll help you as much as I can?”
“That’s not too much?”
“For you? Never.”
He kisses off the remaining tears on your face and you finally smile up at him with love-filled eyes.